Sweet Surrender : An Outcast Fic
by GeneHuntress
Summary: Reverend Anderson is a troubled man. He sacrificed his marriage and family in pursuit of his own private crusade, and now his little community is under threat from dark forces, despite his best efforts. The only bright spot in his life is a budding romance with a flame-haired temptress who makes a mean blackberry pie ... Two-shot, set at the end of Ep. 3.
1. Chapter 1

Never say never again, huh? As it happens, I've had another run of ill-health – fortunately somewhat less serious this time! As a result, I was struggling to write anything much. Then the new US series Outcast began.

The Reverend Anderson, soldier of God and tortured soul, rather caught my attention. And then there was a scene involving some obvious flirtation and a dinner date rather rudely interrupted, and the muse decided to make a very welcome reappearance.

You shouldn't need to have seen any of the series for this fic to make sense, but I would recommend it, even if demonic possession isn't your thing. Mr Glenister rocks both the southern drawl and a rather fetching pair of glasses. Need I say more? :)

….

.

 **Sweet Surrender: An Outcast Fic**

 **.**

 **Chapter 1**

It was barely mid evening and already darkness had fallen in Rome, West Virginia. An unbearably humid afternoon had resulted in the inevitable electrical storm: occasional lightning still lit up the sky, accompanied by the odd rumble of thunder, and fat raindrops drummed on the roof. It wasn't the kind of night for an unexpected caller, and the knock on the door caught Patricia MacCready off-guard. Leaving the kettle to boil, she went to answer it, pausing as usual to check the peep-hole; a habit she'd developed after her husband left and her teenage son took to staying out late. Squinting at her visitor, the breath caught in her throat and her heart tripped into a fast staccato rhythm. She took a moment to check her appearance in the mirror before opening the door.

"Reverend Anderson! To what do I owe the pleasure? Come on in out of the rain, you must be wet through."

She stood back to allow him entry, and he stepped wearily across the threshold. His hair was plastered to his head and the shoulders of his jacket were dark where the rain had soaked into the fabric: he looked miserable, dishevelled, and exhausted. Despite that, he was still the most attractive man of her acquaintance.

"I'm sorry to just descend on you without warning. I … didn't want to be alone."

He seemed utterly lost, and her heart went out to him.

"Take off your shoes and let's get you out of that damp jacket."

Shedding the offending items, he followed her through into the kitchen and took a seat at the table, removing his glasses and fishing around in his trouser pocket for a handkerchief to wipe them on. She touched his shoulder, relieved that the rain didn't seem to have penetrated through to his shirt.

"Can I get you a coffee? Or would you prefer something stronger?"

He raised his head, his gaze meeting hers, and the breath caught in her throat. Without his glasses, the glory of those eyes was even more astounding: piercing blue, shot through with liquid silver, and framed by exceptionally long lashes.

"I'll take both, if that's okay."

For a moment, she was rendered incapable of sensible thought, and then she recovered herself.

"Of course. You look like you could do with something stronger than caffeine."

Reaching into a cupboard, she withdrew two glasses and a bottle of bourbon, pouring them both a generous measure. By the time she placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the table, his glass was almost empty, so she topped it up again.

"Bad day?"

He grimaced.

"You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

Her voice was soft, coaxing. She was curious as to what had led him to her, of all people. He sighed heavily, warming his hands on his mug.

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting anything?"

He searched her eyes and she smiled reassuringly.

"Only another night in front of the TV, and there's never anything on nowadays."

He managed a weak smile in return, and a current of understanding passed between them. In middle age, single was often a byword for lonely.

"Kyle and I went to the prison today."

As he recounted the chilling events of the afternoon, the blood ran cold in her veins and she shivered despite the warmth of the kitchen. He was clearly shaken, not only by the evil he'd encountered but by his own failure to overcome it. When he'd finished he sat quietly, hunched in on himself, and she studied his handsome profile, convinced that there was more he hadn't yet shared. Reaching across, she touched his hand and her fingers tingled at the contact.

"There's something else, isn't there?"

He glanced up, and the pain in his eyes pierced her soul. He gave a reluctant nod before taking another slug of bourbon.

"It was sweltering in the car and Kyle doesn't like cigarette smoke, so I had the window wound down. The sun got in my eyes and I didn't stop to think, I just lowered the visor. So damn stupid." He shook his head, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the mug tighter. "I lost him."

His voice cracked and she furrowed her brows, almost afraid to ask.

"Who, Reverend? Who did you lose?"

She spoke gently, persuasively, but there was a pregnant pause and for a moment she thought he wouldn't reply.

"My boy. I lost my boy. The only photograph I had of him …"

His grief was palpable, and her eyes filled with tears of sympathy. She laid a reassuring hand on his arm.

"First thing tomorrow, we'll go and find him. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, after all."

He blinked at her in surprise.

"You'd do that for me?"

Her heart rate kicked up and her throat went dry.

"There's very little I wouldn't do for you, Reverend Anderson. You only have to ask."

Colouring, she dropped her gaze to the table. The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, and then he cleared his throat.

"As a matter of fact, there is something else, Mrs MacCready."

His voice was husky with some emotion she couldn't quite identify and she raised her head, almost afraid to look at him. Their gazes locked, and to her surprise his eyes were alight with desire.

"Would you be so kind as to take me to your bed and screw me senseless?"

She blinked at him, fearful that she'd misheard, but when he took her reticence for censure and began to mumble an abject apology, she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. Reaching for his hand, she got to her feet, her heart hammering so forcefully against her ribs that she was convinced he must be able to hear it. There was no further need for words as she led him along the corridor to her room.

…..

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Lucky Mrs MacCready, huh? *sigh*

Hope you enjoyed! I promise not to keep you waiting too long for the final chapter. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Big thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review. I wasn't sure how many people would actually find this one, so the response has been rather gratifying!

Without further ado …

…

 **Chapter 2**

Patricia closed the door and turned to face him, tackling the buttons on his shirt with shaking fingers. The Reverend waited patiently, but she could feel the tension in his body and the drumming of his heart as she ran her hands over his bare chest, familiarising herself with the plains and contours. He was solidly built: broad shoulders, muscular forearms, and sporting a hint of paunch that didn't remotely detract from his masculine appeal. Moving closer, she pressed her lips to the pulse point in his throat and was rewarded by a low growl of approval. He was so much taller that she had to tip her head back in order to see his face.

"I can't keep calling you Reverend Anderson, but I don't know your christian name."

"It's John. Although nobody's used it in a while."

His hands slid around her waist, pulling her in close, and she shivered at the feel of his hardness against her belly.

"Well, John, don't you think it's about time you kissed me?"

"It would be my very great pleasure, ma'am."

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, gently at first, deepening the kiss with a groan when she opened to him readily. By the time they broke apart, Patricia's head was spinning and she wasn't sure she could trust her legs any more. He made swift work of undoing her blouse, pushing it back off her shoulders, and she moaned as he took her mouth again, kissing her deeply, thoroughly. Reaching around behind her, he deftly unhooked her bra, a rather unexpected skill in a man of the cloth, she mused.

Seating himself on the side of the bed, he manoeuvred her between his legs, gazing up into her face as he fondled her full breasts, his thumbs teasing the pebbled nipples.

"I've dreamt about this moment, Mrs MacCready."

God knows, so had she. That sexy southern drawl of his caused a fluttering in her lower belly, and she reached down to stroke his still damp hair back off his forehead.

"I think maybe you could call me Patricia now, Reverend."

"What happened to John?"

He flashed her smile before leaning in to run his tongue around a taut bud, and she gasped as he took it into his mouth, sucking hard.

"Mmmm, John! Don't stop …"

He continued the delicious torture, grazing his teeth over it, and she arched her back, moaning in delight at the intense sensations. Through the haze of arousal, she dragged her mind back to their earlier conversation. _Take me to your bed and screw me senseless._ Suddenly she knew exactly what he needed: to be able to relinquish control; to lose himself, mind, body and spirit in sensual bliss, if only for a while. He was an authoritative preacher and a charismatic man, and her fantasies had mostly revolved around him being in charge: in the bedroom, on the floor, over his desk … On this occasion, however, she was more than happy to step up, and she knew just how to play it.

Dropping to her knees, she unhooked his belt and slowly lowered his fly. Sensing her intent, he obediently raised himself off the bed, taking the weight on his hands and allowing her to tug his trousers down around his ankles. Her eyes widened as her gaze locked on to the impressive bulge in his boxers, and she couldn't resist running her fingertips up and down his length. He sucked in a breath, shuffling forwards as his underwear went the way of his trousers and his erection sprang free. Even for a woman with her limited experience, it was immediately apparent that the Reverend had been blessed with more than his fair share.

Taking him firmly in hand, she ran her tongue around the tip before sliding him between her lips, fondling his balls gently at the same time.

"God, yes …"

His voice was thick with lust, and she sucked harder, feeling him grow even bigger in her mouth. He groaned eloquently, tangling his fingers in her hair, and she kept up the sensual assault until she guessed he was close. Releasing him, she got to her feet and pushed him back down onto the mattress. He lay there, propped up on a pillow, eyes heavy lidded with desire as he watched her shimmy out of her skirt and lacy thong. Patricia was suddenly thankful that she'd kept up her regular visits to the gym.

"You have a beautiful body, Mrs MacCready."

"Why thank you, Reverend Anderson."

She joined him on the bed, straddling him, his erection hot and throbbing between her thighs. Rubbing herself against his hard length, she closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back, enjoying the delicious friction.

"So fucking hot …"

His voice was a low growl, sending shivers of arousal skittering down her spine. His long elegant fingers slid over her heated flesh, thumbs teasing the soft skin of her inner thighs, and suddenly she couldn't wait any longer. Reaching into the bedside drawer, she retrieved one of the condoms she'd bought in the vague hope of luring the Reverend into her bed, glad now that she'd chosen extra large.

She took him in gradually, inch by careful inch, allowing her body time to adjust. There was no doubt her thigh muscles would suffer the following day, but she was past caring. God, he felt so damned good, stretching her, filling her to the point where she wasn't sure she could take any more. By the time he was fully seated within her, she was already teetering on the brink. She began to move, grinding down hard on him, and he growled low in his chest, his hips bucking upwards in a perfect counterpoint to her rhythm.

"Oh God! Yes …"

He was hitting her just right, and the slow, steady build up of pressure finally culminated in a mind blowing climax, her whole body shuddering through wave after wave of bliss. He thrust upwards one last time, emptying himself deep inside her with a long, drawn-out groan of relief.

….

Head spinning, she waited until the world finally righted itself before climbing off him and disposing of the condom. Returning to the bed, she lay down next to him, resting her head on his chest, and he wrapped one arm around her, still breathing heavily.

"Damn, that was incredible!"

There was something approaching awe in his voice and she smiled, pressing a kiss to his heated skin.

"It most certainly was!"

She lay there, happily sated, basking in the afterglow and enjoying the rare moment of intimacy. The Reverend's breathing slowed and deepened, and she realised he'd actually fallen asleep. Slowly, carefully, she slipped out from beneath his arm, breathing a sigh of relief when he barely stirred. She stood for a moment, gazing fondly down into his face before smoothing a stray lock of hair back off his forehead. Covering him with the sheet, she donned her robe before leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind her.

Her mind was too active for sleep, so she brewed another cup of coffee and stood at the kitchen window, gazing out at the downpour. _I just made love with Reverend John Anderson, and it was amazing._ Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. She hoped he'd spend the night and then they could go and search for the missing photograph first thing in the morning. After that, who knew? He didn't strike her as a one night stand kind of a guy: at least she fervently hoped not, because she wanted more, much more. She was almost tempted to wake him up for another round, but he'd looked so exhausted she couldn't bring herself to disturb him.

Finishing her coffee, she rinsed her mug and made her way back to the bedroom, sliding into bed beside him. He sighed and rolled over, flinging an arm possessively around her waist, but he didn't wake. She snuggled back into his chest, feeling safe, protected and suddenly very fatigued. Contemplating the delights of a repeat performance in the morning, she finally drifted off, a little smile playing around her lips.

…

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I could get to dislike that woman! Lol. No idea where the series will go next, but here's hoping that it isn't all battling demons for the Rev. That'd be a dreadful waste of potential … ;)

Hope you enjoyed: if so, do let me know. I really ought to be concentrating on the novel writing – it might actually pay the odd bill one day - but fic wise, who knows? Never say never, huh?


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